


Damaged

by TheBlackMagister



Series: Tattoos [2]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Gentle Negan (Walking Dead), Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Attempted Suicide, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Character Death, Psychological Trauma, Rick Needs a Hug, Rick has issues, Self-Destruction, Sweet Negan (Walking Dead), Trauma, but you know, cause its not quite ptsd, i dont wanna say ptsd, this gets kinda dark sorry yall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 13:16:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11105334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBlackMagister/pseuds/TheBlackMagister
Summary: Rick's in a fucking hole. How had Negan not noticed that?





	Damaged

**Author's Note:**

> anyway traumatized rick is a thing. from both being a cop and everything thats happened to the poor guy  
> also ps you should go follow my [twd tumblr](https://binegan.tumblr.com/) i totally snagged a cool-ass username so ya

Not for the first time, Negan considers how much of an idiot Rick is.

He’s back at it three days later, gardening at near-freezing temperatures without any sort of coverage; and this time it’s fucking snowing. Negan can’t quite figure out _why_ he does it, either. He’s from fucking _Georgia_. Surely the cold must, like, burn him, or something. And while masochism wouldn’t be totally unexpected from the cop – nobody can be _that_ innocent, especially not somebody who seems _that innocent_ – it’s still an odd way of going about it.

This time Negan’s not fucking stupid when he goes to meet Rick outside, and he brings an extra coat. As cute as Rick had looked in the over-sized leather jacket Negan had been cold as shit. And then it’s just a waiting game; he’d learned pretty quickly not to sneak up on Rick, even if he didn’t mean to, after a couple of involuntary hits to the face. Rick hadn’t meant to, they both knew it, but eventually the lesson had sunk in. So now he leans on the fence until he catches Rick’s attention, and after a quick slick-back of his curls the younger man approaches.

“Back at it again, huh?” Negan says lightly, draping the extra coat over Rick’s shoulders. “Shit, Rick, you’re really looking to catch a cold, aren’t you?”

Rick just sort of shrugs, and he won’t meet Negan’s eyes. Shit. Negan frowns, head inclining.

“Rick, you okay?”

“Yeah,” Rick mumbles, but he doesn’t _look_ okay. Upon closer inspection Negan figures he must have been crying – recently, too. It’s then Negan realizes this whole thing might be a little more fucked up than just enjoying the cold, or masochism. Rick doesn’t seem much for talking just now, though, so instead Negan pulls him in for a hug, kissing the top of his head. He makes a pitiful sound in the back of his throat, but he clings to Negan instead of pushing the older man away, and that has to count for something, right?

“Let’s go inside,” Negan murmurs, and when there’s no real protest he rests one hand on Rick’s back and guides him towards the door of his house. Rick is an enigma Negan hasn’t quite figured out yet, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t get to the bottom of this sort of self-destructive behavior.

“Wait,” Rick finally protests half-heartedly, only once Negan’s reaching for the door handle. He pulls Negan’s wrist, biting his lip. “Let’s – let’s go to your place instead.”

Negan stares at him for a long moment. He’s hiding something. The temptation to give in to his little puppy face is strong, and momentarily Negan considers it; but honestly, the older man figures it’s time to sort this shit out, and if he doesn’t step in Rick’s probably going to drive himself into the dirt with this.. whatever the hell it is he's doing.

So, despite Rick’s whining protests, Negan pushes open the front door. It’s.. sort of a hellsite, actually. Looks like a damn warzone. Rick stays stock still outside; and Negan walks in gingerly, wincing when broken glass crunches under his boot. Shit’s been obviously shoved off tables, knocked over and shit. Goddamn. Negan glances back at Rick, who’s just standing there, and he looks utterly terrified – like he’d flee if he wasn’t so frozen to the ground.

“I’m sorry,” Rick breathes once Negan’s done a quick scope of the living room and then returned. “I didn’t mean to, I..” He breaks off with a choked sort of sound and bows his head, shaking all over. God, Negan feels so damn bad for the guy.

“Easy, there, tiger,” Negan soothes softly, nudging him in for another firm hug that he leans into. “It’s alright. We need to get this shit cleaned up, though, looks like a damn disaster in there and you’ll get fucked up if you just walk around. Fuckin' glass everywhere. Come on, babe, it’s okay.”

Rick’s stiff and reluctant, but eventually he enters the house, and Negan slides the door shut to keep out the cold. Negan’s not sure where this kind of thing had come from – Rick had always seemed so well put together, definitely not angry enough to cause this kind of damage to his own home. Maybe an anniversary of something. A specific something. Negan can still remember his first couple of years, every anniversary of Lucille’s death; he’d drink a ton, trying to drink himself into a coma. Not that it had ever worked. But everybody has their emotional reactions. Maybe Rick’s is just anger.

“Where’s your broom?” He prompts after he’s done another quick glance around, trying to figure out where the hell to start. Glass first, he figures; that’s the biggest hazard he can see.

“It’s.. in the kitchen, I can-“

“Nope.” Negan cuts Rick off, frowning at the younger man. “You’re going to go put some clothes on before you help out. I don’t know what kinda death wish you got, but that shit don’t fly, and I swear to God if I have to strip you and put some damn clothes on you myself I will.”

Rick hesitates, looking very much like he’d like to argue, but after a moment of struggle his shoulders slump and he lets out a long breath. “You’re right,” He murmurs. “Sorry.”

“Listen. Rick.” Negan softens a little, moving over and cupping Rick’s jaw, and Rick leans into his hands, eyes closing. “I’m not mad or anything. I’m just worried about you, baby. I wanna help you.”

“I know.” Rick stays still for a moment longer before pulling away, pulling the coat a little tighter around himself. Then he’s gone, headed upstairs – hopefully to change like Negan had said. His jeans had been soaked from the snow, and the last thing Rick’s family needs is for him to get sick.

Once he’s gone Negan sets about retrieving the broom from the kitchen – which is also a mess. Goddamn, it’s like a tornado’s gone through the place, it’s fucked up as hell. There’s broken glass in here, too, maybe a light bulb of some kind. Jesus Christ, Rick’s dangerous.

Negan’s cleaned up the remains of a lamp and a vase before Rick returns, still wrapped up in the jacket but with a fresh set of clothes on underneath. At least he’d had the good sense to put his shoes back on. He leans down, picks up a picture frame – which he almost immediately drops again with a sharp inhale. Negan glances up from where he’s tilting the dustpan into the trash can. Rick's hands are shaking and looks stricken, like he’s about to keel over dead.

Please God don’t let him do that.

He doesn’t, though, just picks up the picture frame again and gingerly lays it face down on the coffee table, like it might hop off all by itself. He doesn’t mention it again. Instead he silently goes through the motions of helping Negan clean up. Negan wants to ask.. but he figures it’ll come out in due time. Whenever Rick is ready.

After they’ve finished – and after only a couple of hours, with all the broken shit Negan had been worried it could take ages to get it all picked up – Rick curls up on the couch. He looks.. broken. Damaged. It breaks Negan’s heart.

“You okay, Rick?” The older man murmurs, sitting next to where Rick’s half-curled against the arm of the couch. “And don’t bullshit me this time. Talk to me, baby.”

“It’s,” Rick pauses, struggling to find the words. “It’s been.. a long day.”

“Obviously.” Negan glances around, leaning a little to lay against the arm of the couch with one arm around Rick, and he’s glad when Rick doesn’t pull away. “What happened?”

“It. Uh. A year ago today we, uh, we buried my wife.” Rick takes a deep breath, turning over and nuzzling against Negan’s chest. “Worst day of my life,” He adds, voice thick. “Even worse than the day she..”

Rick trails off, and Negan doesn’t press for more. Instead he runs a soothing hand up and down the younger man’s back, pressing a kiss to the top of Rick’s head. Rick’s quiet for a long time, so long Negan figures he’s fallen asleep; but eventually he looks up, blue eyes red-rimmed and overwhelmed.

“It sucks, too, ‘cause I.. I’d never been with anyone but her, you know. High school sweethearts, that sort of thing. They always tell you high school relationships don’t work but ours did. Got married. Had a baby, even. An’ then I got shot, the first time. Put me out of commission for a week or two. She was different when I got back on my feet. Come to find, when I get back, she’s pregnant. Kept insistin’ it was mine but.. the timing just wasn’t right. Was my best friend’s, y’know. And it fuckin’ killed her.” Rick takes in a deep, shaking breath. “I love Judith to fuckin’ death but she’s not even mine, you know? And I just. I don’t know. After she died, Shane – he, he was my friend – he, he got fucked up. Treated people the way people shouldn’t be treated. Treated _me_ like that. Not all these damn scars are wounds from the job. And then he just.. up and shot himself. I.. thought about following him, for a while. Got a shit ton of pills and everything. But I’m too fuckin’.. I’m too afraid, Negan. Just. Fuck. I’m fucked up.”

“That doesn’t matter.” Negan’s voice is soft, serious. “Trust me. Me, and all your friends, and your kids – and yes, _kids_ , plural, she may not have your DNA but Judith is your fucking daughter, Rick – we’d rather have you fucked up than not have you at all.”

Rick just makes a noncommittal noise, burying against Negan’s body; but Negan’s not finished with the poor guy yet. He pulls back a little, and when Rick looks up, confused, he coaxes Rick’s shirt off over his head. The barest tinge of pink colors Rick’s cheeks and the younger man shifts a little, embarrassed.

“Where did he hurt you?” Negan murmurs, running one hand down his side. Rick inhales, and those gorgeous blue eyes fill with tears.

“Negan,” He starts, but Negan shakes his head.

“Tell me where he hurt you, Rick.”

So Rick points out all the tattooed-over scars from abuse past. Much to Negan’s disgust there’s significantly more of those than work wounds, and after every one Negan presses kisses to them, caressing and touching all the way to Rick’s mouth. Rick chokes on a soft little sob, clinging pathetically to Negan, who’s grip around his body tightens protectively.

“Nobody’s ever gonna hurt you like that again,” Negan promises, pressing their foreheads together. “Not ever, Rick Grimes. I swear by that.”

“I asked Carol to take the kids for tonight,” Rick mumbles, pretty eyes closing. “Stay with me.”

“Of course.” Negan presses another soft, slow kiss to Rick’s lips. “Not ever gonna leave you, baby. Promise.”


End file.
